


Lamb to the Slaughter

by AnnaKnimos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaKnimos/pseuds/AnnaKnimos
Summary: It was just as any other day. You woke up, got washed, dressed and ate. You took a walk, met with friends and fell asleep by candlelight. Yes, it was just as any other day. Except it was your last, for by exactly 12:00 am tomorrow, you would be hanged at the gallows.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Kudos: 14





	Lamb to the Slaughter

The cold air of the early morning nipped at your skin. The thin frock you had delegated for the occasion fluttered lightly in the wind, exposing your legs littered with cuts and scratches. You shifted uncomfortably where you stood, held firmly in place by the snug noose around your neck. Your bare feet were cold against the trapdoor in the scaffolding, toes rubbing against eachother in a futile attempt to garner warmth. A bead of sweat ran along the curve of your forehead, trailing down your cheek and disappearing on your chest. You stiffened your head, standing tall as you looked out amongst the crowd. There was no shared expression of pity as the commoners who opted to bare witness to your inevitable death peered at your sullen and desolate form. You stood high amongst them upon the wooden platform, as a reminder, as a symbol, as an example. And from the herd of spectators, words were thrown about.

"Filthy trollop!"

"Disgusting harlot!"

"Vile tramp!"

Spit launched at your feet by the men and women glowering at you, satisfied to see that thick, fitted rope around your neck. The saintly few gazed upon you with soft eyes, hands clasped as they whispered prayers for your poor soul. You wished to quell their worry. To lower their hands and lead them away from what would soon be, begging them to save their pleas and cries for another. As it was, the insults hurled upon you were deserved. You didn't blame them for the hatred stained upon their hearts at the mere sight of you. You had sinned. You had carelessly dipped your toe into the pool of perversion, sinking deeper and deeper till you were caught by the mighty current that drew you under and stole your breath.

These faces, marred by your absolute reception of suffering would be the last your eyes would fall upon. These faces, blurred by the azure eyes that held your gaze even as the hooded executioner readied his hand would be etched into memory that would fall away at your feet. The face of the man you were damned to love loomed amongst them. His angular features contorted in complete agony, in utter sorrow at the sight of his beloved bound by the laws that had condemned their love affair. Crimson dripped from his wrists as he fought against the ties binding his hands together. He pulled against the firm hands on his shoulder of the guards on either side, boxing him in, ensuring he would watch helplessly and hopelessly as the woman that held his heart fell victim to the gallows. 

With as much courage as you could muster, a subtle shake of your head had stilled his movements, and he surrendered to the guards' hold. He knew what it meant. You willed him to be still, quiet. You were not afraid. You would not beg, you would not break. Whilst you openly professed guilt, you would not express regret. There was no ounce of your being that wished for the alternative. A life in which you had not met the ebony locked prince and joined him in sin. If every breath you took, every act you committed had lead up to this moment, it was not for naught. There was only survival before him, for with him you had truly lived and rightly so. His lips parted, releasing the three words whispered between you behind closed doors and concealed sheets into the whistling wind. You closed your eyes, imagining the breeze as his messenger, bringing the sweet expression to your ear once more. You could not block the salty tears falling freely along your cheeks, or the slight tremble in your lips as you spoke his words back to him, even as they emerged a strained whisper and a choked gasp from your lips.

As the executioner pulled the blindfold over your eyes, painting your vision red, the symbol of your sin removing the view of your forbidden love, you thought back to your first encounter with him, the day you met the dark prince, Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea was brewing for some time now. I'm trying something different and hopefully it doesn't suck haha. Thank you for reading and comments are always welcome!


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